Blonde In A Box
by Race122VE
Summary: Brittany comes back to school after summer break and something's different.   One shot


**Title:** Blonde In A Box  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany  
**Rating:** NC-17 ish (I'm dabbling in the NC-17 part, but there's also a lot of language)  
**Summary:** Brittany comes back to school after summer break and something's different.  
**Word Count:** A little over 6k.  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.  
**Author's Note:** This was kind of a prompt off Tumblr by dealanexmachina based off an interview with Heather Morris who was asked if Brittany's personality would be changed if she weren't a blonde.

A part of her can't believe she's about to admit this, even if it's to herself, but Santana's happy to be back at school after summer break. It's not the school or the Cheerios or even Glee (although, if she were forced to pick just one to be the most excited about, it would be Glee), it's the fact that she gets to see Brittany after the blonde had to go away for a last minute family vacation a week before school.

While the pair made _very_ good use of their summer thus far, the idea of Brittany being absent for the final week was just downright depressing.

It's pathetic and lame, but she misses Brittany and has been since the moment she left. There's an ache in her chest and she's been sleeping in a shirt that Brittany left behind in her room. She had been miserable that whole week, but no one said anything because they knew why she was being an extra bitch. The pair never became official or anything, but now when someone questions the nature of their relationship they just shrug and say that they're _close_.

First and foremost, Santana and Brittany are best friends. Sure, their drunken slip ups had grown more and more frequent (as well as happening more and more when they were sober) and they had toned down slutting it up with others, but Brittany was _Brittany_ and Santana still enjoyed having Puck and the other guys chase after her so while things were better they weren't all that different either.

But…Rome wasn't built in a day or whatever, these things take time.

Still, the past week began to put things in perspective. She wasn't sure what Brittany had been doing (wherever her friend went, the cell phone reception was terrible), but Santana had been ignoring any advances made to her at the end of summer parties she was had attended.

It was something she hoped she wouldn't have to address, but the fucking feelings would not go away.

Regardless of all that, she's just happy to have Brittany back and decides to focus on that for now.

She felt like a complete grinning idiot when her phone buzzed in the morning and read Brittany's message saying, simply, 'See you at school.'

There was no 'I missed you' or 'Can't wait to see you' or a stupidly adorable less than sign followed by a three (which was odd considering it was Brittany but nothing to worry too much over), but it filled her heart up with joy none the less.

_Damn, I'm going soft_, Santana thinks, her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she tries to _not_ look at the door every five seconds from her perch on the risers during Glee Club.

The action, however, makes her realize that she needs to reapply her lip gloss. It's quite embarrassing how worried she is about seeing Brittany and looking perfect for the occasion.

Happy for the distraction, she fishes her mirror and gloss out of her bag and begins to work. Then, there's a collective gasp in the choir room that registers in Santana's mind, but she's reapplying and only needs a few more seconds to reach perfection. So, whatever is happening has to wait. She runs a finger over her bottom lip and smirks at herself in the mirror, fully satisfied with what she sees, when she feels a familiar body sit in the seat next to her.

The familiar, intoxicating scent of citrus fills her nostrils and she smiles as her eyes look down at toned thighs that are barely covered by a pleated, red skirt (she's convinced that Coach Sylvester made them shorter this year along with a few minor changes) and continue to travel up along a form fitting top that stops at a long, slender neck that is surrounded by…

"Brittany?" She hears the way her voices rises, but there's long, wavy, dark brown locks spilling over Brittany's shoulders.

Brittany's a brunette.

What the _fuck_?

"Santana," Brittany says back, mocking the way Santana spoke before breaking into a devilish smile. "What's new?"

Santana's eyebrows shoot straight up. "You're kidding right?"

Brittany shrugs in response and turns slightly to the rest of the Glee Club, still staring with their mouths hanging open.

"What the fuck is everyone staring at?" she asks Santana, but her voice is loud enough for the rest of the group to take the hint and occupy themselves with something else, even though all of their ears are still angled towards them.

She's barely focusing on that though because Brittany just cursed _and_ has something that looks like a sneer on her face.

It's weird and foreign and if Santana were a cartoon, her eyes would be bugging out of her head. Seriously, she doesn't think she could open her eyes wide enough in shock.

First off, Brittany never sneers or ever looks angry or anything like that. Yeah, she pouts, she looks confused, and she's brutally honest, but that's the lack of a filter from her brain to her mouth that just allows _anything_ to fall out of Brittany's mouth. It's never intended to be cruel or mean, even though it can come across that way, but Santana's convinced herself that Brittany doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

Secondly, Brittany does not fucking curse. Like, ever. In fact, she yells at Santana for cursing.

The only time she curses is when they're alone…and naked, but that's another story.

Finally, not only is Brittany's hair different, but so are her eyes. They're still that amazing, hypnotizing blue, but they too have become a few shades darker. She finds herself lost in them, nothing unusual but she can sense that, other than the physical, something about Brittany has changed.

"Hey," Brittany says loudly, snapping her fingers in front of Santana's face. "You know you look like you belong in the Special Ed classes with your mouth hanging open like that."

"Your hair," she finally says, ignoring the cruel insult.

Brittany's hand comes up and runs through her dark locks and she flashes Santana an arrogant smirk. "Oh, yeah, I stopped dying it," she says with a wave of her hand.

The first time she found out that Brittany dyed her hair she was shocked, but it ended up making sense. Growing up, Brittany was always blonde but as she got older it started to get a little darker but it would always lighten up again and Santana chalked it up to the sun or something.

Her hair was light, but Brittany just liked it lighter…which was the color she had the last time Santana had seen her. Santana's eyebrows knot together, "I saw you last week and you were still blonde."

"Oh, you know," is Brittany's explanation, like nothing's happened.

And that's it.

That's all she gets. Everyone is still chancing glances while Brittany pulls out a nail file and starts to work on her nails. She notes the new air Brittany has around her. The way she's sitting, the confidence she's exuding.

It's bizarre and entrancing at the same time.

Santana wants to say something else, should say something, but her mind is just racing and she can't grab on to one thought to focus on.

Thankfully, Mr. Schuester walks into the room, ready to start his lesson. He's sporting a big smile and scanning the room as he says, "Welcome ba…" His greeting trails off and his smile turns into the same, shocked gape that everyone else is sporting when his eyes fall on Brittany.

She's still not paying attention, though.

He looks at Santana and she can only shrug. Literally, Santana's pretty sure that she is, still, rendered speechless from this whole thing.

After another long minute of awkward staring and silence that Brittany either didn't notice or just flat out ignored passed before Mr. Schuester launched back into his welcome followed by his plan for Glee this year.

Santana turns her attention to Mr. Schuester, paying full attention to what's going on during Glee in the first time since…well, since _ever_, but it doesn't last very long. Brittany sets her nail file down in her lap and reaches over to rest her hand on Santana's knee.

Maybe it's because she hasn't been touched by Brittany in a week, but she goes from zero to turned on in no time flat. Brittany's palm is heavy and warm and, now, slowly moving up her thigh while her fingers tap along to a silent beat.

She looks up to find that Brittany has abandoned her nails and is now focusing on Santana, her newly dark blue eyes becoming impossibly deeper and darker.

It's a look she knows all too well and she has to take a deep breath and swallow the lump that forms in her throat, but Brittany's hand continues traveling upward until Santana has to clamp her own over it and halt its assault. She shoots a pointed glance at Brittany who grins back wickedly before begrudgingly turning her attention back to Mr. Schuester.

This was going to be the longest Glee Club _ever_.

The universe (while being crazy and fucked up regarding Brittany's new, physical appearance) shines brightly on her because Mr. Schue dismisses them early and Brittany practically drags Santana out of the choir room into the nearest janitor's closet.

Santana tries to say something, anything, but Brittany slams her roughly against the door and attacks her mouth with her own. Any thought of speaking or thinking flies out the window when the blo…er, brunette forces her tongue into Santana's mouth.

A groan forms deep in her throat and she finds she doesn't have time to involve herself before Brittany's hand forces itself between their bodies and into Santana's skirt. She breaks away from the kiss with a moan, one hand resting uselessly on Brittany's hip while the other clutches the door knob, straining to keep her upright as Brittany enters her and begins moving steadily.

Brittany's other hand slides up Santana's side, over her breast, then finally tangling itself through Santana's dark pony tail, yanking her back for another deep kiss. She strokes her tongue against Brittany's, moaning when her thumb reaches up to circle her clit and she feels herself getting close.

"Fuck, Britt," she hisses and Brittany smiles as she kisses along her jaw and down her neck, licking, nibbling, and sucking hard enough to leave proof of their closet escapades. She's looking down at the dark, wavy hair and balls her fist in it, tugging Brittany's mouth back to her own.

The kiss is sloppy, wet, and hungry and Brittany finally sends her over the edge, pushing deep inside and pulling back to watch it happen. Their eyes lock and Santana's shaking and coming undone, but she swears, for the briefest moment, she sees Brittany for the first time since having her back after the week absence.

It's stupid and completely irrational to believe that Brittany's changed, especially since they've only been together for all of fifteen minutes before having a quickie in a closet, but Santana still can't shake the feeling that something's off. It's also annoying because Brittany is still stroking and holding her as she rides out her orgasm and Santana would prefer to bask in the afterglow instead of worry if there's something wrong with her best friend.

Once she's stopped shaking, Brittany leans forward and places a gentle, lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Wait a few minutes before you leave…but not too long. Mr. Kidney doesn't like it when I hang around after," she whispers and Santana doesn't even register the comment because Brittany's voice is low and throaty and sexy as hell.

Their mouths meet again, roughly, quickly, before she shifts Santana out of the way and squeezes out the door promising, "I'll find you before Cheerios for round two."

When the door closes, Santana slumps back against it, her head hitting the door with a loud thud. She's still trying to catch her breath and understand just what exactly happened because…she's pretty sure Brittany just topped her.

It wasn't completely uncommon, but Brittany had never, ever pulled something like _this_ before.

Yet another thing to add to the list of 'what the fuck happened to Brittany while she was away?' forming in her mind.

But Brittany was back. It's what she had wanted from the second she left and their time together had been scarce, so she pushes the nagging thoughts down (for now) and takes a deep breath before exiting the closet.

**xxxxx**

A week goes by when Rachel jumps her as she's coming out of the bathroom.

"We need to talk."

"Jesus, Berry," Santana yells, jumping back and clutching her hand to her chest. "You fucking scared me."

"Well, I've been scared all week," Rachel counters. "Something _has_ to be done about Brittany."

For the first time, Santana knows exactly what Rachel Berry is talking about.

The first day was just a haze of sex, so it was kind of hard to notice the change in Brittany's attitude then.

Seriously, Santana can't remember the last time she's had that much sex in one week, let alone Brittany's first day back. They did it before Cheerios practice, after Cheerios practice, during lunch, during Brittany's free period, during Santana's free period, in the car on the way back to Brittany's, at Brittany's…you get the point. It was a lot.

Not that she's complaining or anything. In fact, Santana's fairly certain that Brittany was making up for all the times they would have been having sex while she was away.

The next day was slightly tamer. There's still a lot of sex and a lot of Brittany being extra handsy, but not enough to distract Santana from noticing how _different_ Brittany is suddenly.

Santana first noticed the nasty, demeaning comments she flung at the underlings that they go to school with. It's not a huge deal, but, in their pairing, Santana's usually the one to throw out insults while Brittany just spews random nonsense (well, it's random to anyone that isn't an expert in the inner workings of Brittany's mind like Santana).

Then there were the conversations. Actual, honest to God, sense making conversations that Brittany had with teachers, Mr. Schuester, and fucking Sue Sylvester. Like, Brittany just strutted up to Coach in the middle of practicing the newest routine and makes a suggestion that Coach actually takes.

Quinn, who managed to worm her way back on the squad somehow, shoots a questioning look to Santana, but she can't register it through the shock.

That should have been enough to worry Santana right then and there, but Brittany _is_ dance and knows the right way to flow from one move to another more than anyone. Sue Sylvester may be a fucking dictator, but even she can't help but agree with Brittany so Santana gets that. She understands and it's easy to ignore.

Also, again, there's a fair amount of sex to keep her distracted that day.

It's not till the third day that Santana knows Brittany has done a complete 180.

She exited her class with Quinn (who is kind of her friend again even though she fucking hates how easy it was for the blonde to regain her place on the Cheerios, but that's a different story), and is headed towards practice when they round the corner of the hall just in time to see Rachel receiving a slushie facial.

From Brittany.

The former blonde was known, and kind of loved, for the fact that she had been the _only_ Cheerio or jock to never slushie anyone. Also, after the previous year's slushie war debacle, the Glee Club kind of banned together and promised to protect each other and not participate in that anymore.

Not to mention (really, don't _ever _fucking mention it) the fact that Santana had made room in her heart or whatever for Rachel Berry.

Over the summer they had lots of parties with not only the Cheerios and jocks, but with the Glee Club as well. Brittany and Mike would have dance offs while everyone would challenge Rachel in a game they called karaoke roulette where they would just have someone put on a random song and see who killed it best.

It had been one of the best summers she ever had thanks to all that and just getting to be with Brittany and not think too much about it.

Everyone in the hallway stopped, teachers included, and sucked in a collective gasp at the sight of Brittany laughing devilishly as she tossed the empty cup on to Rachel's feet and walked over to Santana. Brittany didn't say anything, just hooked her arm through Santana's and tugged her away, but she managed to send one last apologetic look to Rachel (even though it wasn't her fault) as Quinn walks forward to help.

Later on, when they're tangled together and ready to pass out in Brittany's bed, she tries bringing it up.

"Why did you do that today?" she whispered into Brittany's neck.

"What?" Brittany asked, her voice sounding eerily disinterested.

Uneasiness settled in Santana's stomach and she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. "You slushied Berry today," she reminded her. "We don't do that anymore. _You_ never do that...ever."

Brittany shrugged, lifting Santana slightly with her shoulder as she mumbled into her hair, "I don't know…I kind of always wanted to."

She kissed the top of her head, her lips lingering for long moments, before snuggling deeper into her pillow and drifting to sleep.

The next day it happens again. _Twice_. Another for Rachel and one for Kurt.

Santana didn't witness the attack, but saw the way Rachel and Kurt huddled together during Glee Club and flinched every time Brittany came near them. She was still pretty distracted by everything (not only the sex but general first week back at school shit), but it's getting harder to ignore.

On Friday she heard there was another slushie attack on Rachel, but it's at the end of school and she doesn't get any more details other than the image of seeing Rachel push through the exit doors covered in blue, icy gunk.

Brittany then slid up next to her and began whispering things in her ear that chase away any thoughts of Rachel Berry and slushies. In fact, Brittany managed to dodge the subject all weekend.

Which brings her back to Monday.

"What do you want me to do?" Santana asks, pushing past Rachel and heading down the hall.

She knows something is wrong, but she also knows that she likes this denial bubble she's living in at the moment. Mostly for the orgasms she's receiving _several_ times during the day, but also because she doesn't know how to deal with…whatever this is.

Rachel is anything if not persistent and jogs to catch up. "I want you to fix this," she tells Santana.

"I'm not Brittany's keeper-" she begins before Rachel cuts her off.

"That is a load of bologna and you know it, Santana Lopez," Rachel scoffs, running forward to dive in front of Santana and force her to stop. "There is no way you've spent an entire week with her and haven't managed to find out what exactly happened with her hair."

Santana quirks an eyebrow. "Her hair?"

"Her hair," Rachel repeats with a firm nod. "It's the only explanation. So…tell me what happened."

"You know, we haven't really been talking about hair this past week," Santana replies, a smile spreading across her face as she relives what they've been doing all week. "We actually haven't been talking much at all."

A satisfied chuckle comes out as she watches Rachel close her eyes against the images no doubt invading her brain. "Regardless," she begins, shaking her head. "We have to find out exactly what happened and correct it."

"She didn't dye her hair blonde, Berry," Santana says as she tries to step around Rachel who is still shuffling to keep Santana in her place. "That's it, OK. Brittany's still Brittany. Hair doesn't change a person."

Rachel's face becomes less angry and determined and more soft and honest. "Can you honestly tell me you think Brittany is still Brittany?" she asks anxiously. "It's OK to be worried."

Instinct is telling her to rip Rachel Berry a new one, but she is worried about Brittany. It's too ridiculous to believe, but she is different and Santana suspects as well that it's because of the hair. "This is crazy," she lets out with a nervous chuckle. "It's not rational."

"And yet it's the only explanation that makes sense," Rachel says. "We were hoping-"

Santana's hand comes up in front of Rachel, halting her. "_We_?"

"Myself, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina, Finn, Puck, Mike, Artie, Kurt…"

Santana groans, "You could've just said the Glee Club."

"The point is that _everyone_ is worried," Rachel presses on. "And, according to Quinn, it's not just the Glee Club. She says it's been a rough transition at Cheerios as well."

"Yeah," she agrees begrudgingly. "I'm assuming you have a plan or something."

The smile that spreads across Rachel's face is pretty creepy, but if there's one person to come up with a plan and recruit others to help her execute said plan (even for something as ridiculous as getting Brittany to dye her hair blonde again), it's Rachel Berry.

Not much later, she's sitting in the center of the choir room with Glee Club surrounding her. Rachel is finished filling her in on the (and she's quoting Berry here) 'Genius' plan, and Santana can't help but openly gape at the miniature girl.

"That's the fucking plan?"

Rachel had made a huge deal about getting together with the rest of the club for this shit? It wasn't a plan…it wasn't even an idea on how to help Brittany.

It was an intervention.

For Santana.

"If there's one person that can get through to Brittany, it's you, Santana," Rachel replies, confident with her 'plan.' "It's unrealistic to think that we can force Brittany to dye her hair again-"

"This whole thing is pretty unreal-fucking-listic," she shoots back. "I can't believe you're all ganging up on me just to go fucking talk to her."

Quinn shrugs, "You have to admit, Santana...you're in no hurry to _really_ talk to Brittany about the hair."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and Brittany have been too busy humping like bunnies every five minutes for you to actually deal with this," Puck chimes in. He's straddling his chair and leans forward on to the back, leering at Santana. "Normally," he continues with a disgusting, perverted grin. "I'd set someone on fire if they suggested stopping something like two hotties mackin' on each other, especially since I've snuck a couple of peeks-"

"_What_?"

"Point is," he rushes on, ignoring the murderous glare she sends his way. "This is getting out of control. I hate to say it Lopez, but Brittany's a bigger bitch than you."

Her eyes narrow and Puck actually gets up from his chair to stand near Finn. It's nice to know she still has that effect on people, but she cannot ignore what Puck just said. "Bullshit."

"It's true," Rachel jumps back in. "Why on earth would she slushie me three days in a row?"

"Let's not forget about the slushie facial I received," Kurt reminds everyone. "Also the way she acts when she walks down the halls, during class, during Glee…if she's not rolling her eyes at something she's making a bitchy comment."

"It's like she's channeling you, S," Quinn says. "And she's doing a better job."

A very small part of her feels like they're doing this on purpose, they're egging her on so she'll talk to Brittany. The other 99.9 percent knows that they're right. She'll never, _ever_, openly admit that someone is better at being a bitch than her, but she knows that Brittany is not herself and she's the one that has to take care of it.

"Fine, I'll fucking talk to her," Santana gives in angrily.

Everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief and begins to disperse.

Rachel walks by, giving Santana a warm smile. Santana sneers back. "You're fucking useless, you know that? All of you."

**xxxxx**

When the next day rolls around Santana finds that she can't confront Brittany on determination alone.

Sure, she wants to shove it in everyone's face that she's the biggest bitch in the school, but she just keeps drawing a blank on how to actually bring this thing up to Brittany. There's no graceful way to just mention to your best friend that you, along with everyone else at school, think they're different because of a hair color.

Brittany, of course, isn't making it easy.

She suggests they ditch for the day and Santana pounces on the opportunity for some alone time, forgetting, for a second, that she has to talk to her about the hair. However, she's thinking with her body and not her head so as soon as she agrees Brittany tangles their fingers together and tugs them out of school.

They run over to Santana's car and hop in. Santana starts it quickly and peels out of the parking lot because they may live in a shitty down and go to a shitty high school, but security can be tight at certain times of the day. They make it a safe distance away, but Santana can still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins as well as the steady rhythm of her heart beating against her chest and she knows it has nothing to do with ditching.

"What's with you today?" Brittany asks, but she's paying more attention to her hand that is hanging out the window and is waving up and down through the wind.

The question throws her off guard a little. Brittany has always had this ability to just read Santana, to cut through the bullshit and just get her to open up, but lately she wasn't utilizing it. They had been together for a huge chunk of their days since Brittany got back, but it wasn't until being faced with something familiar, something so _Brittany_-esque, for her to realize how much she missed things the way they were.

"I'm fine," she lies.

Just because Santana knows she has to fix this doesn't mean she's not going to procrastinate a little bit more. Plus, she's driving. She can't bring up something this inane when she's driving. "Where do you want to go?"

The corners of Brittany's mouth turn upwards in a knowing smile. "You know where," she replies as she leans back in her seat and keeps her head turned to look out the window at the buildings passing by.

Santana knew exactly where.

They'd watched enough movies over their friendship that involved characters sitting on the hoods of cars that were parked outside of airports with planes flying over them that Brittany got curious and demanded they find such a place.

The closest airport was about an hour away, but the upside is that no one would call them out for ditching. She pulls up to their spot and Brittany sends her a warm smile before getting out of the car and hopping on the hood. She rolls her eyes at Brittany's lack of finesse before taking a deep breath and joining her.

It's still warm out so Santana hisses when her bare skin comes into contact with the car as she lies back next to Brittany with her arm pressed firmly against the former blonde's.

The silence that falls between them is awkward. Well, it's awkward for Santana. She doesn't know how it is for Brittany. While Brittany was always so in tune with the inner workings of Santana and able to eerily pick up on things, Santana was the total opposite.

Not to say she didn't care or pay attention to Brittany. Santana understood her best friend better than anybody else, but she could never read her. She didn't really have to, either. Brittany's an open book and if you ask her something, she'll tell you (granted, you have to watch your phrasing, but that's not the point).

So, Santana asks.

"What brought this on anyway?"

She turns her head slightly to watch as Brittany brings her hand up to shield the sun from her eyes as she squints upwards towards the sky. "You've been kind of weird lately," she answers. Santana has an 'are you fucking kidding me' all lined up, but Brittany continues, "I figured you'd want to be alone to talk about it."

"I'm fine," she insists.

"OK," Brittany chuckles, sounding unconvinced. "Whatever you say."

Santana can't help but scoff. "Do you even get how ridiculous it is for _you_ to tell _me_ I'm acting weird?"

It's out before she realizes what she said. Brittany, of course, notices the annoyance right away. For the first time since they set off from school, Brittany is giving Santana her full attention. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The way she asks isn't malicious, it actually reminds Santana of the Brittany she knew, but it's still slightly disarming because she's backed into a corner now. There's no choice but to confront Brittany.

"...you changed when you became a brunette...," she mumbles incoherently.

Brittany sits up slightly, eyebrows raised. "Little bit louder, S."

"I think," she starts louder, clearer. "I think you're different because of your hair."

"My hair?"

"You're just…" Santana searches her mind for something to say, some kind of argument to show Brittany that's she not a crazy person, but comes up empty. "Different."

Brittany takes in what Santana says, her face a blank slate. The moments when Brittany pauses to think about something are the longest moments of her life. It's moments like these where Santana wants to take Brittany by the shoulders and just shake her because it's so nerve racking to just wait for a reaction and to hope that it's not something terrible.

"I bought the wrong color," Brittany finally says.

Santana sits all the way up at that, turning to look back at Brittany with disbelief because there is no way she heard what she just heard. "What did you say?"

Brittany puffs out a long breath and pushes herself up to Santana's level. "When I got home and bought my hair dye," she explains. "I bought the wrong color and I didn't check the box and now I'm a brunette until it's safe to change it back."

She shrugs, and Santana still can't believe it because it's so _Brittany_.

Then her mind kicks in and she thinks of how weird the past week has been. "But…wh-what about everything else," she stammers. "What about being mean and participating in class and…Christ, Britt, you realize you've been fucking me into submission since you got back."

"You weren't really complaining about the sex," Brittany teases as she runs a finger up Santana's thigh.

The touch distracts Santana momentarily before she yanks herself back to what's important. "That's irrelevant," she shoots back."I know it sounds crazy, but it's not…it's not crazy…and I know that you know that."

"It does sound crazy," Brittany teases, but Santana is _not_ amused.

"Brittany."

"Look…I know that I'm not the smartest or the strongest person and I know what people think of me," she says, looking away from Santana and talking into the wind and flattening her palm on Santana's leg. "I wanted to try to make this year different. Not to mention my parents have been on me about my grades for a while and there's only so much Coach Sylvester can do."

Santana blinks in response. There's no way this can just be explained so easily, not with all the unanswered things still floating around in her brain. "You've been a huge bitch all week, Brittany," she reminds her. "You slushied Kurt…and Rachel…like, several times. I know you said you wanted to try, but…"

Brittany looks back at her, a fearful look plaguing her face. "Coach," she answers simply. "She said she's not going to destroy Glee Club but she still wants to make our lives miserable. I never slushied anyone and she said I had to, even though I didn't want to. She said it would kill two birds with one stone but I haven't seen any dead bird bodies or rocks."

It's all kind of coming together and making sense (as much sense as it can with regards to Brittany) and Santana feels like shit. She covers Brittany's hand with her own and opens her mouth to say something, but Brittany holds her free hand up.

"There's more," she says softly and with a twinge of sadness. "I've been mean because…" Santana watches the inner struggle Brittany's experiencing right now and she feels like she's being stabbed in the chest. She wants to make it stop, to say something, but Brittany recovers. "I wanted…I _want_ to be strong for you."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Britt-"

"I thought," Brittany continues. "We're so much happier together, you know? We didn't have to hide with the club over the summer and I don't want to hide at all…or lie. But I know you want to protect me."

Santana's entire body slumps at the realization of what Brittany is saying. "I wanted to show you I could take care of myself," she goes on, smiling when Santana squeezes her hand. "I think it's dumb for us to date other people when we just want to be with each other…and every time I try to bring it up…I get scared so I just…"

"Jumped me every chance you got?" Santana supplies with a small laugh.

Brittany nods and their eyes lock for long moments as it turns more serious.

She suddenly feels so stupid for what she's been thinking since Brittany got back. Brittany must sense it because she brings her fingers up to trace the curve of Santana's face. "I missed you, you know," she tells her quietly. "That's another reason…for the sex."

"I'm a dope," she chuckles, and Brittany joins her.

"Kind of."

She lets out a deep breath before looking down at their hands in her lap. "I don't know Brittany," she sighs, shaking her head at the idea of them actually being together. "Do you think we can really do this?"

Santana hates this. Feeling raw and exposed, even in front of the one person she trusts the most. She can feel Brittany's confusion, not sure what Santana's referring to, but is happy when clarity comes over her and she says, "I think we should not worry too much about it."

It draws her focus back to Brittany's loving smile. She's still amazed at how one look can shoot such warmth throughout her entire body and make her feel at ease.

Yet there's still doubt lingering around it all. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Brittany repeats right away. "You worry too much."

Santana's ready to argue, ready to keep questioning because even though she's never seen Brittany's eyes so clear, so blue, she can't help the nagging feeling that this could never work.

Just when she's ready to ruin the whole thing, a loud, roaring sound sneaks up on them slowly. The wind picks up and their pony tails flap around. Santana grips Brittany's hand tighter as they both look up to see a plane heading towards them.

Brittany leans in close to her ear, eyes still locked on to the approaching plane, and yells over the sound, "I hope you get that this a sign you should stop arguing with me."

When she turns her head Brittany is inches away. Santana closes the gap and finds Brittany is more than happy to receive her. Santana's hands wind themselves around Brittany's waist, tugging their bodies together before leaning them back against the windshield of her car.

They're still kissing long after the plane is gone, but it's just kissing and reconnecting with each other now that everything's cleared up and out in the open. Santana pulls away a little, placing lazy kisses on Brittany's lips before pushing herself up and looking down at the former blonde.

She closes her eyes when Brittany runs her finger tips through her scalp before her hands move to rest at the back of Santana's neck, tapping a silent beat.

It's a pretty close to perfect moment, but Santana can't help what she asks next.

"You're going to dye your hair blonde again, right?"

She takes it as a yes when Brittany tugs her back down.


End file.
